Burnished Leaves
by The Serpent Guardian
Summary: MWPP. No pairings. Four young men will change their world, but before they became young men, who were they? What lives did they lead as children? The tales of the marauders before Hogwarts, before each other.


**Title:** Burnished Leaves

**Author:** The Serpent Guardian

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the world of Harry Potter, but I do own Delila and Edwin.

**Rating:** PG-13 for certain prejudices and unhappily-ever-afterness. G for this part. -blinks- I can't believe I wrote something that could be rated _G_. I must be losing my touch…

**Warnings:** Fluff. Small children.

**Spoilers:** None. You can't have read the books and not known James Potter was in Gryffindor or of Remus' "condition."

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**A/N:** This is only the first part. I intend to have all four marauders here, and possibly a few others. However for now, there is only James. So all the above was written with the intended in mind.

Oh, and ignore the odd chapter/subtitle, it's just me and my odd symbolism. If you don't understand it, don't worry, no one else does either.

Enjoy!

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**Burnished Leaves**

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Wings, Apples, and Breezes

_A tale of James' childhood_

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A woman with long, dark brown hair tied back in a simple braid, and dark warm brown eyes stood facing a man. This man had short, light brown hair and dazzling hazel eyes. They stood in a lush meadow, on thick dark green grass sprinkled here and there with colorful flowers. The young slender trees were swaying in a gentle wind, their leaves fluttering.

As the two stood in this gift from spring, the man whispered a question as he slipped a ring onto her left hand. The woman's mouth fall open, before she rushed into the man's arms, tears glittering from the corners of her rich brown eyes. The man picked her up gently and spun them both in a small circle. They laughed delightedly as they stood in their circle of graceful trees and strong arms. A gold ring with opal petals crafted into an apple blossom around a single diamond glittered on the woman's left ring finger.

The leaves rustled and the flowers were plucked by a gentle breeze. Swirling together the petals and leaves danced, almost completely obscuring the loving couple.

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The long haired woman, now with a few fine lines around her eyes and mouth, sat on a comfy bay window. She was gazing pensively through the window into the yard beyond. The trees edging the grassy meadow had grown. A layer of gold, brown and red coated the ground, while an occasional piece of dry, dull green grass peeked through. The sun was beginning to set, slipping behind the shedding trees. The entire grounds were washed in a red-golden warmth; setting aflame the dying leaves, changing them into a bright rich work of art. A crisp wind stirred the fallen leaves, cajoling them into a lazy dance.

The woman's face brightened with a sudden smile, banishing the previous worry from her face and body. She stood swiftly and run out into the crisp autumn eve. A man with light brown hair had just appeared as if from thin air. He stood there, beneath the fiery trees and setting sun. His stance was tired, but a soft smile curved his lips when he caught sight of the woman. The smile only grew as she fused over his current state of exhaustion.

Not but a few moments later her smile had wavered as her previous concern made itself known. Seeing this, the man lovingly cupped her face in his warm hands, a small concerned frown overtaking his tired face. Her lips quirked up a bit as she looked into his warm hazel eyes.

Suddenly her hand shot out and caught a drifting flower from the wind. From between the dried petals she extracted a single seed. She held the seed carefully between her thumb and forefinger, gazing at it serenely for a moment. Then she lifted up the man's left hand and placed the seed on his calloused palm, closing his long fingers around the seed with her own.

He pulled his hand away and curiously looked down at the seed resting on his palm. A look of puzzlement crossed his face before he looked up. The woman watched him with a warm gaze and smile, nodding once before she rested her left hand on her stomach. A look of astonished joy changed the man from weary, to a man full of life and energy.

He clutched the small seed in his hand and embraced her passionately. Picking her up, he spun her in a wide circle. When her feet touched the ground again he leant forward and softly kissed her; tucking another flower plucked from the dancing wind in her hair. They laughed softly and shared another passionate kiss and another as the wind swirled the woman's loose hair around them.

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The same woman lay, exhausted, on a bed propped up by a wealth of pillows. Exhaustion radiated from her entire being, but it was a fulfilling exhaustion, the kind that only comes from doing something worth while. The man, nearly as tired as she, half leaned, half sat on the bed. Their hands were loosely twined together on top of the tousled bedding. They shared a tired but content smile.

When the door opened, they both looked up, anticipation apparent on their faces. A man wearing a long, light blue robe walked in. Cradled in his arms was a blanket wrapped bundle. He gently placed the bundle into the eagerly waiting woman's arms, before nodding to another man who had entered behind him. He too was wearing a robe, but this one was done in a soft lavender. The man in the lavender robe withdrew a long scroll from a pocket. From another he removed a brown feather quill, ink still wet on the tip.

The two new parents on the bed gazed down at the small pink face and tufts of tousled hair wrapped in a warm beige blanket. They traded a look of pure bliss and all consuming love. When the lavender robed man asked them a question, they quietly answer him, all the while cooing at their son. He nodded and swiftly wrote their answer down on the scroll.

At the bottom of the long and fancy scroll these words were written:

_James Andriathyn Dorian Potter,_

_Son of Edwin Andriathyn Dorian Potter, and_

_Delila Genevieve Cyrinia Prewitt-Potter._

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A small boy of five with dark tousled hair and sparkling hazel eyes, bounced happily in his father's arms. The tall brown-haired man smiled fondly down at his son as the two of them excitedly talked of the quidditch match they had just attended. A wistfully spoken sentence caught the father's attention and a gleam of mischief entered his eyes.

After entering a large open kitchen, they were greeted with the sight of a long haired woman directing an enthusiastic house elf to set the table, while she pulled a largish roast from the oven set into the side of the fireplace. Once she had set the roast onto the table she gave her husband and son a hug, placing a soft kiss on both their foreheads. Then she shooed them to the table for dinner.

The family happily conversed as they ate their dinner. While a gentle breeze stirred the drapes on the windows and coaxed the calm flames in the fireplace into a merry dance. The flames rose ever higher in a tangle of reds, oranges and yellows. Slowly the flames fell from their greatest crest and lazily decreased 'til they were but bright embers.

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The tall man was sat in an armchair scanning a newspaper and sipping tea. His wife lay across a loveseat, calmly knitting a tiny sweater and humming happily, occasionally taking sips from a mug of warm cider. Abruptly the five year old ran into the room and skidded to a stop before the coffee table. On the low table a small pile of brightly wrapped presents were placed neatly. However, underneath the table rested what had captured the young boy's attention. There laid a broom with thin colorful ribbons carefully threaded through its bristles, of just the right size for a small child

He shouted happily before hopping onto his father's lap and hugging him hard. Then he rushed to his mother, carefully wrapping his arms around her middle and laying his head on her stomach. She smiled softly as she smoothed his ever messy hair. The man called his son over to where he stood by the door, broom in one hand, navy blue jacket in the other. The two disappeared in a soft swirl of snowflakes dancing on the wind.

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The boy, now older and taller at the _very_ mature age of eleven, stood with his hand clenched in his mother's. Next to the long haired woman, stood her husband holding a small girl of four. The young boy hugged his mother for a long moment in a gentle embrace. He gave his father a quick, hard hug. To the little girl he gave an extra wet kiss on the cheek and a ticklish trailing of his fingers against her side, causing her to giggle helplessly. He then proceeded to hurry onto the long scarlet train, quickly appearing in a window waving. A soft wind carried his yells of goodbye to his watching family as the train pulled away; thin white trails of smoke hovering above and behind the scarlet train.

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The white smoke curled down onto the scarlet train as it lazily slowed to a stop. The dark brown haired boy raced, along with three others, out of the long train to a collection of waiting boats. The group of children followed an overly large man out to the boats and up to a magnificent castle sprawled across the horizon. The large man led them up to the large oak doors, where a stern woman took them inside.

The boy followed the elderly woman and the other children through a crowded hall filled with tables and more people then he could remember seeing all at once in one place, save at the quidditch match his father took him to when he was five. The children stopped when the woman stopped; they were now at the end of the hall before a long table where a diverse group of adults, the staff he assumed, sat.

When his name was called, he sat on the sturdy stool between the staff table and the rest of the children and had the hat placed onto his head. After a shouted word and much applauding, the boy made his way to where the other three sat together under a fluttering red and gold banner. The lion depicted on it seemed to rumble in welcome as it danced in the soft breeze slipping in through the high windows set near the ceiling far above their heads.

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_End._

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**A/N**: That was James' part. I have no idea if I'll ever get the others done.


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